


Are We Family

by Katzedecimal



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: AwaketheSnake, Gen, Masks, Post-Episode: Good Omens: Lockdown, SnakeyWakey, Zoom - Freeform, cw: covid-19, cw: lockdown, cw: masks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25017337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katzedecimal/pseuds/Katzedecimal
Summary: "I'm setting the alarm for July...It's July.  Crowley wakes to find that not as much has changed as he had hoped.  But some things have...A ficlet for #SnakeyWakey #AwakeTheSnake #WakeySnakey whatever else we're calling it
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 89
Collections: AwakeTheSnake





	Are We Family

**Breep-breep-breep-breep**

_“…iving down a corduroy road, Weeds standing shoulder high, Ferris wheel is rusting off in the distance…”_

“… **nnnnnnnfhk** …”

_“At the hundredth meridian! At the hundredth meridian! At the hundredth meridian, where the great plains begin.”_

“…n’gel?” Crowley reached out but found his phone. He pried his head off the pillow and peered at it bleary-eyed, then slapped it back down and thunked back into the pillow with another groan. July, right. July first. _Canada Day_. When everybody else in the bloody world pretended to be Canadian, drinking beer, eating poutine, playing the Tragically Hip and saying “eh?” and “aboot”, which was a myth started by some stupid cartoon and no Canadian had ever actually said, not even the Newfoundlanders. Crowley groaned a third time and flipped the phone off, then got up to look out the window, scratching his chest, wondering what the world was like now.

Well, there were a few more people wandering around now and a few more cars than there were, so apparently there was some improvement. He noticed that some people were wearing masks across their faces, like people in Japan. Some wore plain surgical masks. Others were wearing colourful fabric masks that looked quite fetching, actually. He scratched his chest again and then his hair and turned away thoughtfully. 

He strode out to his office and flipped on the television then opened his laptop and pulled up several news and fashion sites. 

Then noticed the letter on his desk, half-hidden underneath a small pile of fabric sitting on top of it. The envelope was fine parchment, lettered with Aziraphale’s careful Copperplate hand, and sealed in green wax with a stamp Crowley hadn’t seen before. He frowned. That wasn’t how Aziraphale usually sealed his correspondence. 

The fabric turned out to be two masks, one a dark red with Crowley’s snake embroidered in black; the other black with the snake embroidered in red. They had pockets with a filter layer tucked within and a pocket for a wire across the nose. The placement of the elastic puzzled him for a few minutes until he worked out they were supposed to go around the head, rather than behind the ears. And something about the stitching…

He examined the stitching more closely, then the embroidery. This wasn’t machine-stitched, this was sewn by hand. All of it was sewn and embroidered by hand. He sniffed it. No smell of a miracle… He flicked out his tongue and sniffed again, closed his eyes as his mouth and nose were filled only with the aroma of lavender and vanilla and sandalwood and old books and the unnamable scent of _Aziraphale_.

Aziraphale had made these for him, by hand. He looked at the envelope again, sealed with green wax. Something about… Wait, wait, there had been a sort of language to sealing waxes, hadn’t there? Similar to the language of flowers? Yes, yes there had been. Green was significant, what was green, again…? This is what he got for sleeping through half a century… He gave up and googled it. 

_Oh._

Aziraphale had made him two masks by hand, and sent them with a letter sealed in green wax. He scraped his hand through his hair and down his face. Whatever was in that letter, it was _important._ No, he needed coffee, he’d just woken up, there was **no way** he could deal with this without coffee. He shoved himself out of his chair and went to the kitchen. Then went to water the plants, which trembled as they sensed his approach. They passed inspection (barely.) He went back to the kitchen to make his coffee, then went back to his office.

He drank the coffee then opened the letter. He put it down and walked into the plant room again. Then he walked back and read it again. He picked up one of the masks and held it, thoughtful. And read the letter again. Then he picked up the phone. 

“G’morning, Angel. ‘M ‘wake.”

_“Crowley!”_

Oh blast, he could hear the smile in that voice. “Yeah, hi, so, um… What’s going on?”

“Quite a bit, I’m afraid. You’ve missed rather a lot. The situation has improved in some areas but it’s much worse in others. Do you have your computer on?”

“Er, yes? Why?”

“I have a surprise for you! Just hang on a moment…” Crowley could hear the clacking of Aziraphale’s ancient keyboard and frowned. “There we are!” His email alert chimed and he opened it. There was a link in the email, with a password and login code. He clicked the link and entered the login information.

And was rewarded by the sight of Aziraphale’s beaming face. The angel lifted a hand and wavied at him. “Angel!” Crowley felt his heart melting like Ligur and run all over the floor in much the same way, metaphorically. He couldn’t stop the smile that smeared itself over his face. “How did you manage that?”

“It’s this new thing called Zoom! I heard about it on the news! It’s wonderful! They’re even doing telly programs with it!”

“They are?” Crowley glanced up at his wide-screen television.

“They’re even doing conventions this way! I’ve been attending regular book club meetings without ever leaving the shop!” 

The silly goof looked so proud of himself, Crowley felt even mushier. “It’s good to see you again, Angel,” he said softly.

The angel’s eyes grew soulful and dewy, making Crowley’s heart twist and he glanced involuntarily at the letter. “I, I, I knew you would like it, you’re always so up with the latest gadgets.”

Crowley couldn’t stand it. He picked up one of the masks and held it up to the camera, “So, what are these for?”

“They’ve been the key to the staged reopening,” Aziraphale explained, “It turns out they’ve been quite effective in helping to reduce the spread!” He sighed, “I’m afraid lunch is still out.”

Something pinged at the back of Crowley’s mind. Aziraphale had made him masks… He glanced at the letter again. “What about St. James Park? Go for a walk?”

And the angel smiled so brightly, he nearly glowed. “That’s allowed, as long as we wear our masks!” he beamed with that little wiggle he did when he was delighted, “I made you some. I made my own, too.” He held up his own mask. It was tartan.

Crowley couldn’t stop grinning. “How does noon suit you?”

“The usual spot?”

“Meet you there!”

“I’ll bring some peas for the ducks.”

“You do that. See you soon, Angel.”

The call quit. Crowley stood up and raked his hands through his hair, which obediently tamed itself into his usual flame-like style. He passed his hand down his body, changing his silk pyjamas into his regular clothes. He picked up the masks then decided on the red one with the black snake and put it on, adjusting the elastics until they were comfortable. It fit very nicely. He looked in the mirror and decided it looked stylish enough with his outfit.

He inhaled and breathed in the scent of _Aziraphale._

He looked at the letter again. Then he glanced at the clock and went back to the bedroom for his sunglasses. He had an angel to meet.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy SnakeyWakey day! Also, happy Canada Day. Title is from The Tragically Hip, _Are We Family._ Lyrics are from The Tragically Hip, _At The Hundredth Meridian._ And no I find the rest of the world's adoption of "Canada Day" to be hilariously funny.


End file.
